


Deep Within These Hollow Eyes

by Catkin026



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Abuse, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Physical Abuse, Trauma, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 08:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4214637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catkin026/pseuds/Catkin026
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doesn't matter how far they try to run. How far they try to hide. The War won't let them out of their grip. Or let them recover. And Hermione's Comforts don't know how much longer they can protect her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep Within These Hollow Eyes

Hermione Granger shifted among the covers laid loosely on her in an effort to move to a cooler part of the bed, only to find that something was pressing against her. Something soft, reminding her of an old teddy, was pressing down on the right side of her waist. Except it was hot.

With a little sniff, Hermione used her arm, the one that was only slightly restricted due to her body being on top of it, to curl her hand back around her chest to gently touch this something. Touch this something so comforting. As she felt her fingers dust across it, her pinkie came into contact with something hard, with a sharp edge on one side, and softness on the other.

A fingernail.

Hermione moved her finger further up, tracing a path along the knuckle until she came upon the back of a hand. She paused, only to feel something jig her hand. She felt her arm slip, and upon feeling a soft warm body underneath, she quickly retracted it. As she let her hand rest, she didn’t feel softness, but something rough rubbing against her. It took a few moments of gentle probing before Hermione realised that it seemed to begin at the middle finger, before curling across the back of the hand and doing a near circle around the wrist.

Charlie. That was the scar only Charlie had endured. And the only reason Charlie had it was because he had tried to…

No. No!

All she should care about, at the moment, was that this meant that it was Charlie who was the one who had his arm lying on her waist. Though she should have guessed as Charlie did have the wretched nails. No matter what length they grew to, or how jagged they became when they broke, Charlie would not clip them short. 

So Charlie was pushed up against her back, with his arm curled around her waist. It wasn’t a complete stranger. It was Charlie.

Hermione felt a relieved sigh hiss through her lips. Only Charlie. 

But he still made her hot. And she couldn’t have that. The warmth the bed generated was bad enough, without adding the fact that she had to be crushed up against Charlie.

Hermione gave a little wiggle, except she couldn’t get enough of a grip to slide further up, away from Charlie. And his arm wasn’t moving, not with his elbow planted firmly on her hip and the lower half hanging off. It seemed the only part of him that wasn’t touching her was his legs, but that didn’t change the fact that Charlie was not going to move away from her back.

Damn.

But that didn’t stop Hermione from keeping on squirming again. As much as she loved Charlie, that didn’t mean she could stand the heat he was emitting. She had to escape.

Except just as her body managed to slide ahead a few centimetres, she discovered that there was heat being pressed up against the front of her. And it was just as soft as on her front. That meant it was another body.

Damn it. She needed to get away from these two bodies. She could handle being squished up against one of the ones she loved, but not when she was sleeping. Or trying to.

Leaning back against Charlie, Hermione felt her body stiffen upon hearing him grunt. She paused, not wishing to wake him up. He spent enough of the night with his eyes open, talking in harsh whispers to the rest when they thought she was asleep in one of their arms. But Charlie seemed to only give a soft sigh, before he returned to sleep. Giving one of her own, Hermione tried to free her left arm again as she used her other hand to prop herself up.

She always felt too hot when pressed up against two others when she woke up, especially…

Shit! Hermione lost her grip on the mattress and forced her to lash out with her right in order to regain her balance. And she felt the hand flick against something. What, she couldn’t tell, but it might mean that she would wake either one of the two, up. Even the slightest of noise or the tiniest of touches were enough to wake up any of them, and half the reason was because of the world around them. And what was happening directly affected them, even if they weren’t in the thick of it.

The other half was because of her.

But that wasn’t the point. Not all of them were pleased when they were woken up rudely. And by rudely, it meant that the reason why they were awake was because she wanted to get away from them. Her moving to escape their heat meant that she would be leaving the bed, and journeying downstairs, in the middle of the night.

No, they didn’t like it at all when she didn’t remain in bed, even if she was awake.

But she always did feel too hot when she woke up against two others, and it wasn’t as if she could blame the fact that she was awake only on that. Hermione rarely could pass a night without waking up at least once, and sometimes it was because her mind filled her with horror upon reminding her that…

No. No! All she needed to think of was the one she might have woken up. Or both. And she didn’t need to face the two of them about her being awake, again. Even though it had been no fault of her own, Charlie had scolded her earlier. Somehow she had fallen asleep at nine, when the entire group were all resting in the living room, but her body wouldn’t let her sleep straight through. Two hours later, her body had jerked awake and jolting Charlie, who had been holding her in his lap, nearly out of the chair by the fire. It had only been by Oliver intervening that she hadn’t been sent straight up to bed, with him being her accompanist. 

In the end, it had been decided, by a vote of the rest of the group and her, as usual, not having a say, that she was to be sent to bed an hour later. And at twelve, Charlie had cradled her into his arms, stood up and told her to say goodnight to the rest of them. Even though she had protested fiercely against it, as always she had been overruled and had found herself in Charlie’s bed. 

But when she had finally nodded off, only Charlie had been with her. Someone else must have snuck into the room later on and crept underneath the covers. But who?

Hermione gently lifted her right arm from Charlie’s arm, hovering as she tried to not knock into the warm body. So far, she had been lucky that neither of them had woken up, and she wasn’t going to test her luck. So she made sure that her hand slowly moved back and forth as it made its way down until it felt heat below the palm. Hermione made her hand still for a few seconds, before allowing herself to rest the tips of her fingers on the skin. 

And came into contact with a nose. A nose that bore two rough scars, wounds she knew very well. Hermione could picture in her mind that the two scars would arch across the right side of the cheek, before coming to an end underneath the bottom lip. Yes, Hermione knew the path of these two scars well. For they belonged to Bill.

Bill was wounded with them after the attack that had finally shattered any small belief Hermione might have had that the War could be escaped. Dumbledore had forced Snape’s hand and had made Snape sacrifice him for the greater good. The flight of Snape as he knew that any chance of simply declaring all of his allegiance to The Order of the Phoenix was now nil had only cinched the deal. There was no going back.

And what had happened to Bill when he was trying to protect Hogwarts had been the crushing blow. At the time, she hadn’t had this group to comfort her, and had relied on the help of… 

She hadn’t been told of how Bill learned to control his lyncthropy. She hadn’t even remained at Hogwarts long enough to do more than drop in once before she had left the sanctuary of the grounds and had travelled to far away places in order to do her part for the War. 

It was only several months later, after managing to destroy all but one of the Horcruxes, that Hermione had learnt the state of Bill. Remus Lupin had helped Bill during those months, and had been the one to positively identify that Bill wouldn’t become a Werewolf, but would suffer under several of the symptoms. Though he wouldn’t Change, Bill would still be allergic to silver, and would feel ill before and after the Full Moon. On the actual night, Bill would need to be sedated in order to control the flood of emotions that would rage through his body, and this potion was provided at first by Pomphrey, and upon their home becoming this house, Fred and George.

Who would have ever thought that Fred and George would be quite good at Potions?

The sound of a crack destroyed the small smile that had crept over her lips. Instinctively, Hermione’s upper body jerked off the bed as her left arm pressed up against the mattress and the right arched in front of her chest. She couldn’t stop herself from moving into a defensive position when there was such a loud noise made near her. Sounds like that made her uneasy, and even knowing that there were two others in the room with her wouldn’t help. The memories associated with those noises only brought her to…

Hermione gazed around the room, her eyes widening as she struggled to see what possibly could have disturbed her. But the entire room was cloaked in shadows, and the only light was from the window, where even though there were clouds covering the moon, it still seemed to be lighter outside. And then a sudden bright light.

Hermione felt her mind snap as her body tried to shrink further into the mattress, but within a few seconds, her brain kicked in and give her a reasonable answer for the light. It was only the lightening. The storm that had been brewing as she had been settling down in Charlie’s bed in an attempt to obey his request to rest, had finally broken. 

Except the electricity it brought with it meant that there was an ‘unhealthy’ amount of heat crackling through the air, and she still hated having so much around her. Even when she had Bill on one side, and Charlie on the other, it was too much. So giving a little grunt, Hermione gently pushed Charlie’s arm off her and pausing upon hearing the soft thump as it landed back on the mattress. 

It would not do for any of the two to wake up, especially if it involved her. Charlie and Bill never got enough sleep as it was, and if she was to force them from their restful sleep…. Well, they would start worrying again and Hermione didn’t want to let either of them go down that road again. The last time had been enough of a problem, especially as it had meant that the entire group had nearly been forced to leave the house and journey back to Hogwarts.

Hermione shuddered. That Place still held too many memories. It would have to be a dire situation for her to allow herself to be stuck in the castle again, and when moving back had actually been an option, she had been one of the loudest protesting against it even being considered. Bill and Charlie, who had been acting at the time, and still were, the leaders of the group, were the ones trying to push for all to agree to go back to That Place. It had only been by Fred and George who had managed to swing the vote, that in the end, it had been decided for the Weasley Group to remain at the home. 

And she had thanked them for days afterwards. She couldn’t handle Hogwarts, not anymore. And even though Bill and Charlie had known that, during that stage of their lives, neither of them had thought that they would be able to look after the group and keep them safe. There just seemed to be too much danger sneaking around them. 

But Hermione knew that the only reason Bill and Charlie had been trying to convince the rest of the group to return to That Place was because they did love her. They wanted to do what was best for her, and at that time, they had thought that she being surrounded by the ones she loved, and close to her old friends, would give her the support she needed. Yes, those two loved her, just as much as the rest of the group did.

With a small smile, Hermione bent down, giving Charlie’s cheek a kiss before doing the same with Bill. The days were full of moments when they expressed their love for each other, whether it was pecks on the cheeks, hugs or gentle rubs against the skin. But still, Hermione felt as though there were not enough of these tender times, and even when she was disobeying their direct orders, she couldn’t stop herself from showing it again, even if they would probably never even know of it.

Though Bill might be able to smell it.

Carefully Hermione crept off the bed, opting for crawling over the footboard in order to not disturb Charlie or Bill any further. Softly resting her feet on the ground, as there were several creaky floorboards in this room. In fact, she sometimes thought that on purpose certain spells had been placed on the floors in order to make sure that it would be difficult for her to leave the bed without alerting someone that she was doing so. They were extremely possessive over her, and got narky when she refused to simply lie in the bed, even if she wasn’t sleep. 

It was only upon Hermione reaching the small wooden cupboard by the side of the door did she stand still, reaching in through the folds of the cloth that covered the entrance to pull out a moth-eaten black jumper, complete with a hood. It was one of her old, favourite Muggle items that had been given her by… She still kept it, even though most of the others had been stored away in a small backroom in Hogwarts, and with the rest, the group used during any opportunity to be nestled up against her body. 

But this old jumper was perfect, and would be all she would need. It would keep her upper body warm, and the loose flannel pants she used for nightclothes would be enough to warm the rest of her. Oh, and socks. Even if she would be sticking to just the kitchen, the place she usually curled herself up in when she was awake during the night, which would still be warm even though the fire had probably dwindled to mere embers, her feet would still need to be kept warm. 

Grabbing the first rolled up pair she could find, Hermione gave a little sigh before stepping into the landing, only to pause. There was no point on her continuing if she wanted to get away with this. She had to listen for each continued sound of breath to come from the five rooms around the stairs. She needed to hear the various soft breaths from every single one of her friends.

In the beginning, they used to joke that they were her Comforts. She couldn’t remember exactly who had used that word to describe themselves first, but somehow the name had stuck. And now that was what they called themselves.

But at the moment, she didn’t want any of her Comforts to be awake. They needed their sleep. More than she did. She could survive on a few hours sleep. That was all she could depend on these days. They could not.

As Hermione noted that each and every single one of them was giving her even breathing, she began her traipse down the stairs. She made sure to avoid the three broken steps, all of them on the To Do List of one of the group and were always meant to be fixed by last week, before crossing onto the open planned ground floor. Even with the lights off, and her not being able to turn them on since it would alert them to her being awake, Hermione knew exactly where her feet would bring her. The small flashes of lightening that occurred every few minutes only caused her eyes to squint, and Hermione ended up simply keeping them closed. It didn’t matter anyway, as she knew when she passed the pillar that was the only divide in the entire ground floor and it was only upon her stepping into what was officially known as the kitchen, Hermione’s brown eyes searched out for the small cupboard she knew would hold those ‘oh so precious’ bags of tea.

Except there was a clap of thunder, and Hermione couldn’t stop herself from shivering. Sometimes, she truly wished that she had taken Bill’s offer on having the entire house encased with a Silencing Charm. But the first time he had brought it up, only a few weeks into the group moving in, Hermione had refused. She didn’t want special treatment just because she was going through a bit of a rough patch, and had told him so. Bill had simply looked back, his left eye still closed over at the time, even though the attack by the bloody Werewolf had happened over a year before, but had still managed to portray a look of sorrow. Bill, even though he was going through a trying time as his body and mind was still learning to co-exist with the Wolf side, believed that she was worse off than him. 

Bill still continued to ask her to allow him to give her that added small ‘help’ to her peace of mind, but Hermione wouldn’t hear of it. She didn’t want special treatment. She didn’t want to have the deomens inside of her quelled just so she could sleep at night. But Bill wouldn’t have any of it.

He wouldn’t give up either, and kept giving her chances to not have to endure the sound of cracks, the sounds that would remind her of the snaps of whips as the… And it would have meant that she would not feel as if each flash of lightening was a memory of those Curses being fired, with no chance of them being avoided. Of seeing…

Hermione shook her head. 

No. Tea. She had come down here for the tea. Not for the memories. 

She furiously made her hands search through the cupboards, starting with the one closest to the back door. Anything to keep her mind off what it so desperately wanted to investigate; to explore. But just as she had finally managed to figure out what shelf the tea bag had been put on this time. The lot liked to move it on her, in order to try and keep her from staying awake-

‘Can’t sleep?’ a soft voice said over her shoulder.

Her right hand stretched out in front of her, having a death grip of her wand in the direction of the voice, only for her arm to slightly falter when she saw who it was. Even in this dim light, Hermione could see the tired face of Fred Weasley, his soft lop-sided smile grinning at her as his blue eyes blinked furiously in order to try and clear out the sleepy dust. Damn, she must have made woken him up, even though his room was the farthest from the top of the stairs. Damn. Damn. Damn.

And it was then that she realised that there was a wand in her hand. She didn’t quite remember grabbing it when she had left the bed. But she must have, instinctively. The entire group had become used to keeping their wands by their side, always. In most cases, during the times when they slept, the wand would be kept to one side of the bed, and the second one sharing the bed would take the other. This was in order for both of them to have the best access to the bed-sits where their wands lay. She, as the third in the bed, had had hers on the right hand side due the fact that Charlie had been the first one in.

Though of course, for most of the group, they used their little extra Powers in order to make sure that their wand was always near by. The ones who didn’t were because they believed that it shouldn’t be used unless it was in response to a dire situation. The definition of what counted as a dire situation was another matter.

And this must have been one of the few times that she hadn’t thought about it, but had simply Summoned it to her when she was leaving and had placed it on the elastic of her pants’ without realising.

‘Easy there, Mione,’ said Fred.

He took a few steps into the kitchen.

‘You need some tea?’ said Fred, as he moved past her. ‘Sit down while I make you a cup.’

‘I-‘ said Hermione.

‘Sit down, Mione,’ said Fred, as he glanced over his shoulder. The stare as always made her give up any chance of trying to argue his point. Either of his points. Fred was ordering her to accept the cup of tea he was going to make for her, and for her to remain still. So that he could keep an eye on her, undoubtedly. ‘Put your socks on so that you don’t start shivering.’

And then there was another flash. Hermione leaned to her left, only to nearly crash into the bench surrounding the large kitchen table in this section of the house. She was lucky, her hand stopped her from tripping, and gave her a chance to simply slide onto the bench. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Fred had moved away from the kettle but had stopped himself from outright marching over to her and spooning her body into his. 

It was rare a moment when one of them didn’t know how to react. For most instances, one of them would immediately swoop in, gather her in their arms and murmur sweet words into her ears. And hold her until her shivering ended and they knew that she had calmed down. But this was one of the few times when it was a flip of the coin on how she would react. Usually, her response was clear-cut, but when it involved sudden movement such as flashes of light, or sharp noises, it was a completely different matter. Those reminded her only of her most dangerous memories, and ones where she would either welcome the comfort they could give her, or else lash out and refuse to be touched for hours on end.

But for this one, Hermione took another option. She gently let her body relax again, as she made her mind only think of how she couldn’t argue with Fred’s statement about her socks. There was a reason why she had grabbed them in the first place, and even though the kitchen was warm, it would not take much for her feet to grow cold. And then that coldness would creep up her body, and she would shiver. Shiver uncontrollably.

And even warm arms encased around her body wouldn’t stop it.

So she gently pulled the sock over her left foot, the one that gave her the most problems. That was why she wriggled it up, Hermione was careful to not let the cloth touch her skin. For the part of her skin covering her foot bore a scar that began at her big toe, only to spiral to her calf before creeping down around her ankle and then up again up her leg like a snake. It ended only just below her knee. It was her problem foot because it gave her slight touches of pain ever now and then, especially during the bad weather.

Like now. Like the night she received it, when Uncle Arthur and Aunt Molly were-

‘Come into the sitting room,’ said Fred.

He gently pressed his fingers into her shoulders, as she gently put the other sock on her right. Before she could even protest, Hermione found herself being lead into the sitting room and gently pushed into the closest couch to the fire. The one Charlie usually occupied. With a snap from Fred’s fingers, the fireplace sparked to life and two cups of tea hovered by his side.

‘Here’s your tea, Mione,’ he said, handing one of the cups to her. 

Hermione felt comfort by the heat the cup emitted, glad that it was only her hands that were heated this time. If her entire body became hot again, she was going to have to move somewhere cool again. She would have to. And at the moment, any of the window seats each one of the bedrooms possessed was looking promising, though it was doubtful that Fred would allow her to.

‘Up already, Mione?’ another voice asked from the stairs.

This time Hermione didn’t need to turn around. She knew who it was. Her mind had calmed down enough simply by the small matter of her trying to think of a cold place to curl up in, and so she immediately recognised who the voice belonged to. But it also meant that since it was only her body heat she was muddling over, she should have been able to sense him coming down the stairs.

Damn. This was just proof of how much damage she had suffered after… She was slowly losing the instinct that had kept her alive when she was younger. Slowly, but surely. Except it made her wonder, did she want to?

‘It’s only four in the morning, Mione,’ said the voice. ‘Usually you manage to stay asleep longer than this.’

‘I am fine,’ Hermione muttered, as she took her first sip of the soothing herbal tea.

Though she knew that it was a complete lie; she didn’t even need to wonder if she was saying the truth. As did he. And Fred. They knew, just as well as she did, that it was not a good situation when she was up at this time. It meant that there was trouble.

‘Why didn’t you wake me or Charlie up, Mione?’ said the voice. ‘You know that we don’t like it when you wander around.’

‘I was only slightly hot, Bill,’ said Hermione.

She could feel him as he crept around her, staring at her bowed head before taking a seat on the one couch not occupied by either Hermione or Fred. And even that small movement was enough to make her lips give a little twist. She knew, without raising her eyes to stare at him, that Bill would have that unfortunate twinkle in his eyes.

‘And a Cooling Charm?’ he said.

Through the small tentacles of her hair, Hermione could see that Bill had crossed his arms across his chest as a small tug of war occurred on his lips. Sometimes Bill used humour to try and react to a situation, just as Fred and George had always displayed when they had been children. But it was this sense that had managed to bring her up from the darkness on numerous occasions, and when Hermione was half a second from letting a giggle escape her, there was only one way she could hide it. And that was by giving a little sniff.

But even his slight touch of humour could not hide Bill’s trace of anger of her daring to leave the room. There was a reason why they were so close to her. Why they allowed her to reside in at least one of their beds every night. It was to try and give her the chance of chasing away the deomens that tormented her. It was one of the ways they used to make her remember that there were still ones out there to live for.

And that was why Bill did not appreciate when Hermione disobeyed their orders.

‘Just drink your tea,’ said a voice from behind her. 

And a second later, someone had nearly pushed her off the couch. As she fought to regain her balance, Hermione could sense someone jump on the couch before wrapping their arms around her waist. A moment later, she was pulled back and onto their lap.

Only one would react in that way. This one was more physical with her, and when there was such anxiety in the air, took this approach. And that was only George.

‘Trying to give me a bloody heart attack,’ Hermione muttered under her breath.

‘Never would dare to,’ George whispered into her ear, before placing a kiss on her cheek.

And that caused Hermione to giggle. She could never stop herself when he gave her a kiss, even if it was on her cheek. George’s touches always did that to her. They weren’t sexual, but somehow, his touches always seemed to be on an area of her body that suddenly became ticklish.

‘George,’ said Bill, ‘stop distracting Mione. We want her to go back to sleep, not get her hyperactive.’ 

‘You’ll be a good girl and go to sleep when we ask you, won’t you, babe?’ George said, his arm rising slightly so that he could gently trace swirls on her tummy.

Hermione gave a little snort.

‘I’m not sleepy,’ she muttered.

George gave her another kiss. Hermione giggled again.

‘George,’ said Bill, ‘let someone else cuddle Mione. You are only making her excitable.’

Hermione gave another little sniff. Excitable. This wasn’t her being excitable, and he knew that. Excitable was when no one watched Bill close enough and he managed to sneak in drinking over three cups of coffee. And then all of a sudden, he was so full of energy that he could talk a mile a minute and no sense could be made of anything he said. 

And Bill had only started drinking coffee upon becoming one of her Comforts. He had never needed it before. When he was doing his job as a ‘Relic Hunter’, Bill had had enough adrenaline to not need any help. Or when he was out on a Mission during the War. But upon Bill tying himself down by simply looking after her, Bill needed that burst of caffeine in order to keep himself alert during the strange hours she now kept.

Hermione could only blame herself for the bags under his eyes and his dependency on coffee.

And the nervous twitch of Charlie’s left arm. He would never regain full control of that arm again. It always gave him slight trouble, and always would. 

And in the case of-

‘We should have some hot chocolate left,’ said George, ‘unless someone had the last of it yesterday like I suspect.’

Even without being able to look at it, Hermione knew where to follow his gaze. And it also helped that Fred was looking slightly uncomfortable. Though it wasn’t as if Hermione blamed Fred for taking the last cup of hot chocolate, if he had. It wasn’t as if she would need it. She wasn’t feeling that bad tonight. She didn’t need the hot chocolate tonight, for once, to forget that she had lost her three best…

‘It’s still there, George,’ said Fred.

Ah. Only trouble could come of this. Fred was getting testy. And when Fred was like this, then-

‘Easy,’ said Bill, ‘the two of you.’

‘I got an extra four bars when I went out to the shop yesterday,’ said a new voice.

And then all the tension in her shoulders vanished. She could relax. All was well. Charlie was always able to dissipate any anger, even flares up on the subject of chocolate that was considered dear as it was used so regularly to help Hermione when she was having one of her ‘bad patches’.

Even Bill’s snappiness over the chocolate and the fact of Hermione being up could be dealt with. 

Before he had become one of her Comforters, Hermione had always believed that nothing could truly annoy Bill. She had never seemed him rattled, even after the entire incident with the one and only time she had ever gone to the Quidditch World Cup. He had still seemed to have a bit of his old self in him when they had returned to the tent to get some sleep after trying to rescue the Muggle family from the Death Eaters before returning to The B…to the Weasley’s old home.

But that had all changed upon Bill taking over her care. Even when Bill was still learning how to balance his old personality and the Wolf, he had still seemed pretty even-tempered. Maybe it was simply because she hadn’t really gotten close to him, preferring the company of Fred, George and Lee to any of the older Weasleys. But this presumption of hers had changed upon Bill insisting that Hermione be moved out of That Place and reside in this small house he had discovered in the highlands of Scotland. It was practically lost in the highlands. But that was how it was perfect. None of them would ever be found here.

And Hermione had found out all of this when Bill had become one of her Comforters. Because all of a sudden, Hermione was someone he was fighting for. And he would use his temper to defend her. 

‘Mind melting a bit for Mione?’ said George.

His words caused wind to whistle past her ear, and Hermione shivered.

‘Don’t need any,’ Hermione managed to hiss out.

She had to stop letting George speak next to her ear. It kept distracting her. It was going to distract her into allowing herself to be brought back into-

‘Won’t take a minute,’ Charlie said from over her shoulder.

She could hear the creaks of floorboards as he moved into the kitchen. The crash of saucepans as he grabbed one from the lower cupboards, followed by the thud of its doors being shut. The soft hiss as the gas was lit in the Muggle stove and the soft clink as the saucepan was placed upon it. And then a hiss as butter was dropped inside the pan. And the crackle of something being torn; a snap as the chocolate squares were broken up and then the clink as each one of the squares were placed alongside the butter.

‘Still don’t need any,’ Hermione muttered.

‘Yes you do,’ said Bill.

He was giving her a pointed look that before had only been reserved for his own siblings. Ones that he still only used on his siblings, but now she was considered one of his siblings. She had been adopted into the family. By Bill, who had managed to grab the necessary paperwork for the adoption before the Ministry had been destroyed to the last brick by Death Eaters. She was now considered as Hermione Elizabeth Mary Granger-Weasley.

‘And stop grumbling, Mione,’ Bill said. ‘You are drinking this chocolate whether you want to or not.’

Hermione felt her nose twitch. She had a hundred reasons for why she shouldn’t have the hot chocolate, the main one being that the rest of the group, most of who were already down here, needed it more than her, but she had a feeling that she wouldn’t win this argument. It wasn’t as if Charlie would back her up, as he had always felt that the reason all the bars of chocolate were in the house in the first place were for them to be used on her. And Fred and George would just push the cup into her hand, with George guiding her hand to make her drink it.

‘Mione,’ said George, ‘don’t give our big brother trouble.’

She gave a snort.

This was nothing. If they thought this was her giving others trouble, then they should see what she was like when she was in a temper when she was younger. When she would let her anger lash against Ro-

‘Mione,’ said Charlie, ‘enough. Or I am moving you.’

Giving a little wiggle, Hermione felt George give her a little squeeze before nudging her head underneath his chin. 

‘Don’t want you to be moved now, do you?’ said George. ‘Who else will give you a comfortable lap to snuggle in?’

Hermione gave a little sniff.

‘Come on,’ said George. ‘Who else will give you a comfortable lap to snuggle in?’

A giggle escaped from her lips.

‘Ah,’ said George, ‘I thought so.’

‘George,’ said Bill, ‘don’t annoy Mione. We need her to go back to sleep before daybreak.’

‘That might be hard,’ said George, ‘it is four in the morning.’

‘Daylight is three hours away,’ said Fred. ‘You’ll be hard to get her asleep before then.’

‘She can have a nap later,’ said Bill.

‘You said I needed to get into a routine,’ Hermione muttered.

‘You have been following this routine for two years, now,’ said Charlie. ‘You can have a little break. You deserve a little break. And this is going to be one of the times when we break routine.’

‘I don’t need a break,’ said Hermione.

‘Yes, you do,’ said Charlie. ‘You will be drinking all of this chocolate, return to bed with one of us and remain in bed until ten.’

‘Ten!’ said Hermione. ‘I can’t remain in bed until ten, not even pretending.’

‘You will remain in bed,’ said Charlie, ‘until we decide to let you up.’

Hermione allowed herself a few moments of cursing, careful to make sure that each of the words were under her breath in order to stop any of the rest of the group from hearing her. Unfortunately, Bill with his increased sensitive hearing, was able to pick up each and every single one of those words, but he only glared at her. He obviously did not want to bring up what words she had been speaking.

‘I swear he’s getting better at it with each and every time he’s making it,’ muttered Fred, lifting his nose to smell the aroma of chocolate.

‘Don’t be greedy,’ said George. ‘You had some yesterday.’

‘Only a cup,’ said Fred.

‘That was a big cup,’ said George.

‘Don’t start that all over again,’ said Charlie. ‘There is more than enough for all of us.’

The sound of a cupboard being opened, followed by the clinking of mugs being placed on the counter.

‘It is supposed to be there for Mione,’ said George.

‘It’s not exclusively mine!’ said Hermione.

‘Enough,’ cut in Charlie, ‘no more talk about the coco. All of us are having a cup and that is the end of it.’

Hermione could feel George sigh heavily, as Fred glared at him. George shifted from beneath her, a sure sign that he was glaring right back at Fred.

Sometimes, she wished she wasn’t so close to them to see the cracks in the relationship between Fred and George. To know that though they were close, the War had nearly torn them apart and caused major rifts between them. Their easy-going nature was destroyed, and though they managed to keep the smiles between them, and work together in order to maintain small pranks to keep laughter in the house, the rest of the group could see the two slowly moving apart.

They weren’t the twins Hermione knew when she was younger. 

‘She’s drinking all of it,’ said Charlie suddenly from behind her, ‘and don’t let her put it down.’

The passing of something and suddenly George’s hand was gripping her fingers enclosed around the tea mug. With a little tug, the cup of tea was out of her hands as George leaned foreword, forcing her body to do the same and placed on the table before them.

‘I was drinking that!’ said Hermione.

Trying to keep her body in reach of the table, Hermione made a grab for the teacup.

‘You can finish that another time,’ said George. ‘For now, you are having chocolate.’

‘Too sweet,’ said Hermione. ‘I want my tea.’

‘Do you want to go to bed now?’ cut in Charlie as he strode in front of her, handing George and Bill their own cups. ‘Or after you finish your hot chocolate?’

Hermione gave a little sniff.

‘I thought so,’ said Charlie, turning back into the kitchen. 

‘Why can’t I just be allowed to stay up after I wake up,’ Hermione whispered to herself.

‘Because if you did,’ said George into her ear, enclosing her fingers around the mug of hot chocolate, ‘then you would only get about three hours of sleep every night.’

‘I can live on three hours of sleep,’ Hermione muttered.

‘No you can’t,’ said George, giving her cheek another kiss.

‘Yes I can,’ said Hermione.

‘That’s it,’ said George, ‘you are with us tonight.’

Hermione squirmed.

‘You need your sleep,’ she said.

‘As do you,’ said George.

‘What are you two whispering about?’ said Charlie as he sat on the arm of the couch occupied by Bill.

‘Mione is going to be with us for the nap,’ said George, gently stroking a lock of hair away from Hermione’s face. 

Bill raised an eyebrow.

‘Is she now?’ he said.

George gave a little gasp.

Even now, every now and then Bill would scare them. Though Bill had grown to learn how to control his Wolf side, his temper sometimes broke through. And when it did, it was difficult for them to calm him down. They had no Remus Lupin to talk Bill back into sense.

Since making this house their home, Bill had taken up going on long walks when ever the dark side of the Wolf became to apparent. To try and burn up the anger inside of him.

‘Bill,’ said Charlie softly, ‘if George wishes to be the one who keeps an eye on Mione for the nap, then he can. We take in turns looking after Mione at night.’

‘I need her with me tonight,’ said Bill.

As George’s hands gripped her tighter, Hermione glanced over at Bill. His eyes had turned gold, a sure sign that Bill’s Wolf was taking over. 

‘Bill,’ said Charlie. ‘I think you need to take a walk.’

‘I need her with me tonight,’ said Bill, his orbs burning as they turned on Charlie. ‘I need the only female of the Pack with me.’

‘Bill,’ said Charlie, ‘she’s Taken. You have to remember that.’

Bill gave a low chuckle.

‘I know that,’ said Bill. ‘I just need her curled up with me.’

Remus Lupin had never fully explained the rules Wolves went by. She had been away for most of the time Bill was learning about how Wolves lived, and by the time she had returned, Remus only had six more months to…

But she did understand about this need for a Wolf to be around their Pack. It wasn’t necessarily sexual, but just like the wolves in the wild, a Pack was formed and maintained by deep connections between the members. This was shared in a Wolf Pack. It was quite common for the Wolf and one or more of the group to cuddle up against each other during sleep. It meant nothing more than the sharing of the bond between Wolf and the Pack. 

It was one of the few points about being a Wolf that Bill had explained. There was so much that he had not.

‘It’s all right, George,’ said Hermione. ‘If he needs me, he needs me.’

George gave a little sigh.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘It’s why he climbed into Charlie’s bed last night.’ 

‘But I thought he…’ said Hermione.

‘His eyes have been glowing all day,’ said George. ‘You probably didn’t notice because you were so tired.’

‘I wasn’t tired,’ growled Hermione.

‘Drink your chocolate,’ said George, bringing the mug to her lips.

Hermione took a sip.


End file.
